Small Glow in the Dark
by Hotch Fan
Summary: Spoilers from 1x23 "Firewall." Slowly, Finch regained consciousness, carefully blinking his eyes open.


**************I won't bore you all with my rambling about the season finale, because surely all of you are just like me, (Oh God, I can't wait!) So let's go straight to the fic; this was supposed to be just a little drabble, but as with pretty much anything PoI-related, it just spread out. So... enjoy!  
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**************Please, remember that while the amazing _PJTL156_ read through it, there could remain some mistakes, all my own of course, so feel free to point them out, I would really appreciate :)  
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**********************************I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.**

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**OoOoO**

**Title: Small Glow in the Dark.**

Slowly, Finch regained consciousness, carefully blinking his eyes open.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light in the room and be able to focus on his surroundings, but as soon as he did, his shoulders dropped ever so slightly and a big lump appeared in his throat.

"Caroline Turing" fooling them, killing Alicia right in front of him, the kidnapping, all those blurry memories of waking up in this room, of _her_ asking questions, and that wicked smile she had on her face every time before sticking a needle in his arm... "_Let's try again later, Harold."_

Finch squeezed his eyes shut, curling his tied hands into fists. Everything was real. _Everything._

Eyes still closed, Finch bit his lip. The pain in his neck and leg was slowly starting to appear as the effect of whatever drugs she was giving him wore off. The pain would only get worse when the drugs left his system totally. That much he knew.

Finch drew a deep breath, trying to oblige his mind to focus. Between the drugs and the lack of any time indicator, Finch had no idea how much time had passed, how long he had been here. Wherever _here_ was.

The room he was in was small, with no windows and dark walls, and aside from the chair he was in and the lonely bulb hanging over him, keeping the place from falling into total darkness, the room was empty. And then there was the door placed opposite to him so he could _hear_ Root come, but not see her until she was right in front of him, or at least beside him.

If he wasn't in this... predicament, he would have laughed at the nonsensical place he was in and how it looked like a room taken from a bad action film, but as it was, it only made him afraid. Afraid, because if he had learned one thing from the woman who had risked her life to "drag him out" it was that she was extremely meticulous, and that every step, every decision she took, was precise. So, every little thing, every detail in the room, or the way she acted with him... everything, was part of Root's plan; _her_ plan to break him.

Finch swallowed hard. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, it would- _could_ work, given enough time.

He wasn't naïve or about to start lying to himself. Never had been. He was well aware of his... physical shortcomings. He knew he wasn't a strong man; he wasn't anything like Reese, so it surely wouldn't take her too long to break him, but that didn't mean _he_ was going to give her what she wanted. He couldn't. That much he owed Nathan, who had died protecting him and the Machine.

Wetting suddenly dry lips, Finch shook himself. It was pointless to start worrying about it now when he probably would get a _generous_ amount of time to do so, if the time did come. ´_When the time comes´_ whispered a voice inside his head, but he decided to ignore it, at least for now.

Predictably, his thoughts drifted to his employ- partner, Reese. Finch's lip twitched up. Thanks to all the information he had gathered about the former CIA agent -but mainly to all the time he had spent with him- Finch did not have the slightest doubt Reese was looking for him.

Due to loyalty and perhaps a misplaced sense of guilt on Reese's part -at leaving him vulnerable to Turing's mercy (even if they didn't know she was dangerous at the time)- Finch knew Reese wouldn't stop looking, _digging,_ until he found him, and her.

The knowledge that there was _someone_ looking, someone who cared enough and was without exaggeration capable of countless illicit _activities_ to get him back, was overwhelming and... _confusing_, but it also gave him a reason to fight; to stay strong. But... he wasn't just going to sit here and wait for John to come and rescue him. That was not like him.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Finch sat up in his seat, straightening his shoulders as best he could, holding back a yelp as a sharp pain shot up his neck. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, but he wasn't gonna let it stop him. He couldn't.

Closing his eyes tightly and trying to focus on more pleasing memories; memories of his time with Grace, of late night talks with Nathan, the priceless moments of acting as ´Uncle Harold´ with Will and even of Reese, and all the people they had helped; saved. With those thoughts in his mind, Finch started fighting.

Feeling a tear rolling down his cheek, Finch struggled with the rope tied around his wrists. It was tight, and as soon as the rope brushed against his skin he felt a burning pain on both wrists. Within just a few seconds he could feel blood running down his hands, the skin there already damaged.

He kept doing it, even though the rope haven't moved an inch. But hearing noise behind him, the noise of the door lock being opened, Finch froze, his hands going completely still behind his back. Holding his breath, he could hear the sound of heels getting closer.

"I thought I told you to stop struggling with the ropes,_ Harold_." Root's voice was soft, almost friendly. Almost. "You are going to hurt yourself and we don't want that, do we? At least not yet, and not your hands. They are important to our goal here, remember?"

Finch startled, feeling Root's hands touching, _caressing_ his hands. He felt helpless, unable to do _anything_ to stop her.

"I'm going to clean them once again, but this is the _last_ time I'll do it." Root walked the few remaining steps, stopping in front of Finch. She crouched gracefully, looking Finch straight in the eye, that wicked smile on her face again. "They are important Harold, but not _essential. _Nothing is. So, I could give you a little _something_ so you can't move them again, or even better, just cut them off," Finch's eyes widened, his lower lip trembling, making Root's grin turn into a grimace of sympathy.

"I don't want to Harold, but I will if I have to. It's your choice."

Root looked at Finch intensely, head tilted. Then, all of a sudden, she reached out and brushed Finch's tear with her thumb, making Finch shiver at the touch and uselessly try to get away from her.

With a pained smile, Root stood up. "I'll go get the supplies and a little assistance, just in case you try something... _clever_. Then we are gonna talk some more."

With that she turned away, leaving a stunned and frightened Finch behind as the sound of her heels echoed into the small room.

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**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read it.**** I hope you all have enjoyed****, and as always feedback is appreciated :D  
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